Another Roiling stabbed out at him, and the Old Man caught its wrist, ice sheathed the creature’s flesh and it screamed once, briefly, and was dead.
“Is that the last of them?” the oldest asked.
“Yes,” came the response six times.
Perhaps this was it. Perhaps their task was done, and they could get on with their dying. There’d be a quiet dignity in it. After all, they had cleared the city of Hardacre of Roilings.
“Then we must feed, and-” He felt David again. They all did: the weight of his thoughts and their rage returned.
The captain of the Langan Twist waited for Mr Brown of Mr Brown’s estates. He clutched the invoice in his hands; he wasn’t going until he had all the money that was owed him. Times were desperate, and his business had grown even more cut-throat in the past few weeks. Mirrlees was gone, Hardacre and a few coastal towns the only major outposts — and Drift, of course, but they had no need of his lumpy old dirigible. They had their Aerokin and ways of dealing with the land.
He lived from commission to commission. And even that was getting thinner, this was the first time he had done the Creal and Hardacre run without proper security. His five passengers were stowed away and onboard, but he still needed this payment. He looked down at the invoice, it would see him clear for another month. After that, well, the world might have ended then — and with it his bills. Every cloud, he thought. Every bloody cloud.
If only most of his creditors had been based in Mirrlees rather than Hardacre, he would be free and clear of debt (as some of his competitors had become); but he was a good Northern Airship man, dealt only with northerners, and they still expected payment. Month in, month out.
Didn’t they see what was happening?
Still, the captain clung to his own ways, which was why he had rejected Buchan and Whig’s offer. That and he wasn’t given to madness. The way north was dangerous and fickle, and he knew he could never, not even in his most arrogant moments, know the sky well enough to risk those winds.
Now, where was that The invoice dropped from his fingers, he reached for it absently, only he didn’t stop reaching — and the paper seemed to slide further and further away. How frustrating! By the time his head smacked against the floor, he was already dead.
The Old Man picked him up gently, the body still twitching. He’d only just eaten, and while it never hurt to have a little more, he knew there would be no chance to eat in the sky. They’d come upon the airship fields by accident, but the Old Man was willing to accept serendipity. Before in the city, and for what came after, all that killing and running, they’d not been clear enough of head to consider it, but now, fat on refugees and city folk, clarity was coming back.
The last of the Old Men arrived. He carried a great bag over one shoulder. “You found the mechanism?” their leader asked.
The other nodded, and wiped at a bloody mouth. “Its owner was more than happy to give it up.”
“Then we are ready. We have stripped this town of its Roilings, its Vergers and scum. We have fed and fed deeply. Now we must fly. David is in the air, and we must join him. The time for walking is done,” the Old Man said. He nodded to the others, one of them dragging Mr Brown of Mr Brown’s estates with him.
The Langan Twist rose into the air, and not long after, the screaming began in earnest.
Not everyone could wait.
CHAPTER 28
The Old Men thought they knew everything, the Mothers of the Sky knew more. It's hard not to, when the world is stretched beneath you like a map. Which makes their mistakes all the grander.
THE CITY OF DRIFT 1411 MILES NORTH OF THE ROIL
“I’m really sorry about this, David,” she said with a voice that lacked the slightest whit of contrition.
David struggled to open his eyes, the lids gummed with blood. They came apart slowly. He blinked a scratchy sort of blink. His wrists were bound in iron, his shoulders burned. He tried to touch the ground, and could just manage it, though not enough to support his weight. “What are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing,” Mother Graine said.
David closed his eyes, focussed on the iron shackling his wrists, and the chains that lifted them above his head, and made them cold. Very cold. A bitter sharp sort of chill that built within him and spread out. His breath thickened, the air itself slowed around him. The iron shuddered and rattled. It warped. Slowly, he lifted himself up, and yanked. The iron burst, and he hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him, almost thinking he might shatter himself, but he didn’t. He tore his hands free, took a step forward, and He woke in virtually the same position as before, only this time, his toes brushed a puddle of something, melted ice, blood, piss or all three of them. This is not good, he thought.
“You didn’t think I was waiting for that, David?” Mother Graine’s breath plumed. “Breaking free of that iron wasn’t going to leave you in a position of strength, you’re too far from the earth and the Lodes.”
He pulled on the manacles, just once, or tried to, instead he only managed to swing forward, his shoulders numb, but not quite enough that he didn’t know he’d pulled something, maybe broken something else. “Yes, I should have known better.”
His stomach rumbled, he was hungry: horribly, horribly hungry.
“That goes for most of the actions of Old Men and boys,” Mother Graine said.
“We all make mistakes.” He tilted his head to get a better look at the chains. “This is one of them.”
“Don’t be like that.” She stood next to him, touched his face. David suddenly remembered the night before, their lovemaking. His face burned, the first moment of heat in all that cold. Cadell had gotten him into this, where was the Old Man now? He seemed remarkably silent in his veins.
Mother Graine smiled, a grin more chilling than anything his skills could produce. “Now, David, I want you to know that this isn’t personal.”
“I’ve always considered death to be extremely personal.” He bit out at her hand, but she had already pulled it away, waggling a finger at him as she did so.
Mother Graine clicked her tongue. “Not for us, never for us.”
“What will happen to Margaret?”
Mother Graine blinked. “You really care?”
“Of course I do.”
“She will not be harmed. Unless she causes us trouble.”
“When doesn’t she cause trouble?”
“That personality type is encouraged here, David. Your idea of trouble and ours is different.”
Mother Graine fell forward, with a grunt. Margaret lowered her leg. “Not really,” Margaret said.
“You took your time,” David said.
Margaret nodded at him. Hands held him up.
“Did you just piss yourself?” Kara Jade asked.
He said, “Please get me down.”
“I’m doing my best,” Kara said, jangling keys. “You didn’t see which key they used to lock you up?”
“I was unconscious at the time, I’m afraid.”
Something clicked, Kara cried out triumphantly, and David almost fell into the puddle at his feet. “Gotcha,” Kara said, pulling him away.
Mother Graine had gotten to her feet. Her face had lost all its humour, but she did not look at all like a person who had been kicked to the ground. You, David thought, are a very dangerous woman, indeed.
Part of him knew just how dangerous, and even now found it thrilling.
“There's no escape for any of you,” she said. “Not a breath of it, I'll have you all hanging from iron.”
“Escape suggests that we’re going somewhere safe,” Kara said.
“Believe me, we’re not,” David said.